BW C96(NSFW)

Chapter 96(NSFW)

 

In the end, breath failing, Hoeun tore his lips away—yet Taemuk bent lower, capturing them once more. His free hand clamped tight on the back of Hoeun’s head, leaving him no room to escape.

“Mmph—uhh—hnnh…”

Even as he ground the head of his cock relentlessly against Hoeun’s puckered rim, Taemuk refused to part from his mouth. Their exchanged breaths burned hotter and hotter, tongues and lips melting together like candy.

The tip struck fiercer, rougher, battering the wrinkled ring. Hoeun’s bony knees knocked inward, then splayed apart, then buckled, flailing with every thrust. Yet despite his frantic writhing, Taemuk’s cock found the mark each time, hammering the exact center of the crease without fail. Soon the rim hollowed out, so much so that even a careless jab slipped perfectly into place, as if swallowed whole.

“Haa…”

A thick vein bulged on Taemuk’s temple. The hand that had been gripping Hoeun’s nape slid lower, clutching at his protruding shoulder blade as if to rip it off, then gliding down his lean back, squeezing the tender swell of his cheek. Through the thin wet robe, every touch of flesh felt unbearably precious. He wanted to leave his mark upon it.

“Ahh! Hngh, nnnh, ahhh—”

“Mmm…”

Taemuk’s tip began rubbing faster over the rim. The folds, swollen from soaking, pressed and ballooned with each collision. Then, all at once, he yanked one cheek wide. The soft flesh stretched aside, flattening the cleft, loosening the tender folds until they spread without resistance, and a tiny opening gaped, no larger than a fingernail. Through it, water trickled inward with a hiss.

“Ahh!”

Hoeun stiffened, shocked. But the flow stopped at once. Taemuk had pressed his cock to the tiny breach. Before Hoeun could even reckon what was about to happen, Taemuk seized his waist and thrust him down.

“….”

Hoeun’s eyes flew wide. No scream, no cry escaped him—not from pain, but sheer shock.

His entrance, softened and slick, yielded smoothly to the tip. When the widest ridge caught at the rim, instinct clamped him tight. His body knew—no farther, can’t allow it.

“….”

Taemuk ground his teeth at the resistance. Yet he drew back, relinquishing. He had promised not to hurt him. For all he was a base brute, he wasn’t low enough to break his own word so quickly.

And even with just the head inside, pleasure overflowed.

He pushed half the tip in, then withdrew, again and again. The rim sucked greedily at him, then locked rigid, refusing him when he pressed deeper—so like its master.

Unable to bury the rest, Taemuk wrapped a hand around the shaft, rocking it not up and down but side to side. Hoeun’s rim wobbled with it, squeezed left, then right, twitching. Sometimes he stroked the stretched folds directly, and the ring mouthed him eagerly in reply.

“Uhh—mmnh—ahh! Hhhn—”

“Haa… mmhh…”

His motions grew quicker, his tip scraping, grinding, dragging through faster and faster. The bath roiled around them, sloshing in chaos.

“Hhngh—nnnh!”

Hoeun squeezed his knees tight, his body rigid—until suddenly, with a wet slip, the entire tip popped inside. A bolt of lightning struck his spine.

“Hhhhn!”

His gaunt frame convulsed, hole spasming, clutching the head as if to sever it. Taemuk’s jawline sharpened, his temples throbbed—and,

“Kh—”

Hot seed spilled thick into him. The molten flood filled his gut, making his rump tremble. Soon a pale cloud surfaced in the water above—it was Hoeun’s own release.

Both, conquered by climax, held still in rapture. Hoeun’s ribs jutted and fell with ragged breath; Taemuk’s chest swelled and sank with equal force.

After savoring the haze, Taemuk began moving again, grinding the buried head up and down, wringing out the last of his seed. With each pulse, each spurt, Hoeun’s back jolted sharply.

At last, when nothing more remained, he pulled free. The spent rim clung tight, reluctant to let the head go.

He nearly drove back in on the spot, but restrained himself—for tears still jeweled Hoeun’s lashes.

As his cock slipped out, the hole snapped shut, then slackened, gaping faintly like the gills of a fish, breathing. Dribbles of his seed leaked out in slow trickles.

“Hhh…”

The alien, unsettling sensation made Hoeun’s shoulders hunch. Instinctively, Taemuk seized both cheeks, pressing them together to hold it in.

“Haa… hhhnn, haa…”

“Haa…”

Even after spilling, Taemuk did not release his lips. Hoeun gasped against him, chest heaving, his mind hazy, body craving to collapse, but Taemuk held him bound.

His tongue ravaged Hoeun’s mouth—rolling, probing, sucking lips whole, slurping even the pooled saliva between tongue and teeth. Only then did he break away.

“Haa—haa—haa…”

Hoeun panted desperately. Even breathing felt beyond his strength. After such a punishing day, after taking Taemuk inside, after spending himself, the world swam black at the edges.

Blinking dully, he at last succumbed, collapsing against Taemuk’s chest. His cheek pressed to the smooth expanse there.

“….”

Something was wrong.

Dazed, he sat bolt upright again, staring.

Taemuk’s wounds… were gone.

“….”

Disbelieving, Hoeun traced his chest with tentative fingers. Only sleek skin met him—smooth, gleaming even. The muscles felt firmer, fuller, his frame larger than before.

Rude or not, Hoeun’s hands roamed, especially over where the deepest gashes had been. Nothing. Not healed—erased. As though they had never been.

His eyes shone as if witnessing sorcery. Taemuk’s deep voice rumbled.

“You did it.”

“…What?”

Hoeun’s lashes curled upward in dumbfounded shock. Taemuk smirked faintly and repeated,

“You healed me.”

“M-me…?”

“Yes. You.”

“….”

Hoeun looked again at his chest. Me? I healed him?

He had seen it once before—his touch closing Taemuk’s wounds—but hadn’t had time then to feel it. Now, it struck as if for the first time. Wondrous. Marvelous. Proud.

He pressed his palm flat to that broad chest, murmuring with dazed eyes, eyes so like Taemuk’s own when swept with rapture.

“Only I can, right?”

“What?”

“In this whole world… only I can. Only I can be your Guide, General, isn’t that so? Only me…”

Even this wretched body of mine—useful to you, isn’t it?

His voice was blurred, hungry. In his gaze, Taemuk felt an uncanny familiarity.

He had seen it before—the starved eyes of men who had never eaten their fill, the forsaken eyes of orphans who had never known love, the hollow eyes of the poor who had never once held what they desired.

Strange. That such a pampered noble son should wear that look.

And yet—he didn’t dislike it. No, he liked it.

Taemuk nodded slowly.

“Yes. Only you.”

“….”

Hoeun bit his lip, chest squeezed tight. Tears threatened, but he held them back—too shameful.

He leaned into Taemuk once more, nuzzling into the junction of neck and shoulder. It was so comfortable. Solid, warm, vast.

His chest rose and fell with every breath, the heavy heartbeat echoing steadily in Hoeun’s ears. Like lying in a cradle.

Soon his eyelids grew unbearably heavy. Each blink took every ounce of his strength.